I love music. Both my kids love music. (My husband loves music, but thinks no decent music was made after his high school days.) I love going to see my favorite bands, and look for opportunities to expose my kids to good music. Like last summer, the boys and I headed out for our Bumbershoot adventure. We braved the crowds, we ate our favorite foods. This year was grilled hotdogs for the boys, Thai curry for me, and a brick (literally) of shoestring fries. The highlight for Mitch was to go see The Flobots, but what we didn’t expect, since I had never followed their music, was that 10,000 other people had the same idea. For Kyle and I it was the Old 97s. They have a song called “King of All the World” that used to be Mitch’s favorite song, then Kyle played it so much we all got sick of it, which was the case with most of Kyle’s music. They were great. Kyle loves watching bands, and inevitably he would start drumming along and nodding his head to the beat. Everytime they would finish a song and people were clapping, Kyle would scream out, “King o’ Word”. In the end, they played all the favorites, but not that one song. Kyle was disgusted, stomped his foot, raised his hand palm up, and kept on saying, “Mom, why no King o’ Word?”
Even though Kyle didn’t get to hear his song, I knew from his swagger that day (the one you saw when he walked down the halls or when you saw him on the street) that he really did feel like the king of all the world.
